


All of Your Children Start to Resent You

by Chash



Series: Holiday Fills 2018 [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy knew that traveling with Clarke was risky. Having her pose as his wife was theoretically less risky, as long as they didn't see anyone they knew, but if theydid, it was going to be bad.So, of course, they do. And, of course, they have to marry, after that.





	All of Your Children Start to Resent You

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [griffinpuff](http://griffinpuff.tumblr.com/)!

"I blame myself," says Lady Abigail, which isn't the most encouraging start to this encounter.

"I blame you too," Clarke snaps, which doesn't help. 

Bellamy is keeping his mouth shut, at least for now. Everyone else is already dedicated to making this worse, he doesn't need to contribute to that. His job right now is to make Clarke's life easier however he can.

"You could just believe me that nothing happened," she adds, softer. It's no more helpful than anything else, but Bellamy does agree with her.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, Clarke, it matters--"

"It matters to _me_. If something was going on with me and Bellamy, I'd tell you. But it's _not_."

Bellamy doesn't wince, although it takes some effort. It's the truth, of course; the two of them are friends, good friends. Close enough friends that there are already rumors about them, that Clarke has already been told to be careful about interacting with him, that he's been told to leave her alone.

If he had, they wouldn't be in this situation, but he also wouldn't be able to see her. It's just not worth it.

"You left the city with him, with no chaperone, and you were _seen_ at an inn, Clarke. You know what that looks like. You know what everyone will think. If you weren't eloping with him, what were you doing?"

"Traveling!" says Clarke. "Nothing _happened_ , and it shouldn't have been a big deal. I had no reason to think we'd see anyone we knew, so--"

"So you didn't think saying he was your husband would be a problem? Really, Clarke?"

Even she can't argue with that; she opens and closes her mouth and settles on, "It was worth the risk."

"To get out of town for a few days?" she snaps. "Forgive me for not being more sympathetic to your boredom. You know how important--"

"It was my fault," says Bellamy.

Lady Abigail's attention snaps to him, eyes hard and wary, like she had forgotten he was even here. "Excuse me?"

"My sister is--willful," he says, careful. "She hasn't been adjusting well to our recent entry into high society, and she wasn't happy with her tutor." He sighs, gives up. Clarke shouldn't have to take the blame for something that was indisputably not her fault. "She ran away, and Clarke agreed to come with me to find her. She was only helping me."

"Noble." She doesn't say it like a good thing. "Unfortunately, noble intentions only go so far. The two of you were seen traveling together, going into the same _room_. It doesn't matter what was actually happening, the only thing that matters is what people think."

"So tell them we eloped," says Clarke, and Bellamy nearly chokes. "I don't care."

"Clarke--"

"What? Everyone already knew we were close and you didn't like the match. They'd all believe I decided to take it out of your hands."

Lady Abigail's jaw works. "You aren't leaving me with much of a choice."

"The truth is still an option." Her eyes cut to Bellamy. "Some of it, anyway. We don't have to mention Octavia."

"Whatever you need to do," he manages. "I'm at your disposal."

"I'm sure you are," says Lady Abigail, dry.

All he can do is shrug. Bellamy is a member of upper-class society entirely by accident--a father he'd never met who made a decent fortune at sea named him in his will, and suddenly and without doing anything to deserve it, he had enough money that he'd never have to work again.

Which, honestly, wasn't a good fit for him. He'd been working too long to settle into idle comfort, so he kept on working, using the money to open a new shop in the city, buy better materials, hire staff, expand. Once he had more than enough money to live on, he found it easy to turn into more and more money, and these days he's rich enough to buy most things except for a title for himself and manners for his sister, neither of which he wants to care about. But he'd like Octavia to be happy and taken care of, and a good marriage would help with that, and he'd like himself to be happy, and a title might have helped with that.

Mostly what he couldn't buy was Clarke marrying him, but that was less about the title and more about, well, Clarke. If she'd wanted to marry him, title or no, she would have made it happen.

"What do you want us to do?" Clarke asks. "We were seen in an intimate position by one of your friends. Telling us that it was a horrible mistake doesn't solve anything. It's done, so tell us how you think we should fix it."

There's a long silence during which Bellamy finds himself holding his breath. He doesn't _want_ to marry her, or rather he doesn't want to marry her like this, not with her being forced into it.

"You're going to have to marry him," Lady Abigail finally says. "As soon as possible. We'll say it was done in private and kept quiet because you didn't want a large ceremony. I'll find someone in town, it'll be done by tomorrow." She looks between them, sighs. "Don't get pregnant for at least a year. And don't go anywhere."

She leaves, slamming the door behind her, and it takes Bellamy a second to recover.

"Fuck," he says, finally. "I'm so sorry, Clarke."

"Don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong."

"I could have done this alone. Or gotten two rooms. Or--"

"You didn't do any of that by yourself. I said I'd come with you, I said we should get one room. We agreed on all of this. I'm just sorry she caught us."

He rubs his hand through his hair. "She'll really make us go through with the marriage?"

"Honestly? I think she has to. I wish I could say that if she told the truth, people would believe her, but--"

"It does sound like her saving face."

"Well, it could be worse."

"How, exactly?"

"I could be marrying someone I don't like. But I know it's not--what you were planning for."

It's nice that he doesn't have to lie; he didn't ever let himself plan for this. "No. But I didn't have much of a plan."

"And it's still a good match for you, at least socially. We're friends, we can be happy. Right?"

It would be the perfect match for him, if he wasn't in love with her, but he can't say that. So he just smiles, shakes his head like he's amused. "I think we can make it work."

*

Bellamy met Clarke when she wandered into his store at sixteen, a lady whose skirt had gotten caught on a tree in an unfamiliar neighborhood and needed some quick repairs. His mother had been out, so he did the work and they chatted, more easily than he expected. He'd assumed it would be the last he saw of her, but she was back the next week, and the week after, his first titled customer. Her patronage didn't bring more like her, not at first, but once he had his father's money, she was an invaluable resource, helping him figure out where to open the new shop, what fabrics to buy, what styles were in season. 

She's always been a good friend, but she couldn't be more than that. It was impossible, unthinkable, no matter how much money he made or how prosperous the circles he ran in were. He could be well off, but he couldn't be part of her world.

Except that now he is, somehow, married to her. 

"At least the ceremony was quick," she says flopping back onto the bed with deep sigh. It's the only bed in the room, which isn't the first time this has happened on their trip. They were pretending to be married before this, after all. But now they're _supposed_ to be sharing. That's so much more confusing. 

"I was amazed your mother let us get away with something so--small."

"As few witnesses as possible." She sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. We both knew the risks."

"I was sure we wouldn't see anyone I knew. It seemed so unlikely."

He sits down on the edge of the bed, starts undoing the cuffs of his shirt. "It's better for me than it is for you. Marrying you will only benefit me."

"Oh?"

"I've been elevated into the peerage."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be. But at least we can look for your sister without worrying about anyone catching us."

He pauses, hesitating before shrugging off his shirt. He's still wearing his undershirt, but the intimacy throws him nonetheless. He has yet to feel fully comfortable being so stripped down with her. "I know I've said this before and you never listen, but you really can go any time."

"I listen," says Clarke, amused. "I just don't want to go. Do you think the marriage will make your sister feel better?"

He glances over his shoulder at her, which is a bad idea. She's fully dressed, but her eyes are closed and her hair is spread out under her, unbound. She is, as always, beautiful, and the knowledge that she's his _wife_ is almost too much.

They're going to have to talk about what that means, sooner or later. But his preference is for later.

"Why would it make her feel better?" he asks.

"Maybe not _better_. But wasn't she saying she shouldn't have to learn to be a lady because society would always see her as nothing but an elevated commoner?"

"I don't think this changes that. That's how everyone's going to see me, isn't it? An upstart commoner who tricked a lady into marrying him."

"That's not what happened."

"It doesn't matter what really happened, just what people will think. And they'll think that I'm the villain. Not for long," he adds, when she sits up, frowning. "And not--I don't mind. But I doubt O's going to think it will radically change her life."

Clarke sighs. "Oh well. I hope it will anyway."

"Me too." He opens his mouth, ready to tell her that they should talk about it, but he can't force the words out. "Ready for bed?" he asks.

It's not much of a wedding night, but he's not going to be the one to say it, and apparently she isn't either. "Almost. I need to go wash my face. But you should turn in."

He strips out of the rest of his clothing and changes into his nightshirt, settles into bed. They've been managing to avoid going to sleep at the same time for this entire trip, thanks to an unspoken coordinated effort. If Clarke is ready for bed, he'll stay up reading; if he's ready for bed, she'll have "things to do" in the washroom. There's a polite space of time during which it's safe to assume that whoever is in the bed has fallen asleep, and then the person who's awake joins them.

About half the time, they wake up tangled together, which they don't talk about either. It's been a trip full of very pointed silences.

Bellamy crawls under the covers, closing his eyes and taking a few deep, measured breaths. The bed is nice, soft and comfortable, and his life isn't that much weirder or worse than it was yesterday. 

"It's not a big deal," he says aloud, and the bed dips as Clarke sits next to him.

"It is," she says. "Getting married. But it doesn't have to be a big deal until after we find your sister and get her home. One thing at a time, right?"

"One thing at a time," he agrees, letting out a breath. "Goodnight, Clarke."

He can feel her settling in, and it's a little bit nice. He would have missed this, when he lost it. Maybe the marriage means that he won't. "Goodnight."

*

After two days, they find Octavia with her aunt, just as Bellamy suspected she would be. Luna is Octavia's father's sister, and she's never liked Bellamy, making her the perfect candidate for someone to shelter O while she figures out her next move. And, as a woman who never married and made her own fortune, she'll also be sympathetic to what Octavia wants to do.

"So, give me one good reason I should let you see her," Luna says, arms crossed over her chest, unimpressed.

"Because I won't try to make her come back."

Her eyebrows go up. "No?"

"Not if she doesn't want to. I knew she wasn't happy," he admits. "But I didn't think she was this unhappy. I thought once she got used to her new position, she'd be fine. But if she doesn't want to get used to it, we need to figure out something else. I don't want to lose her."

Luna turns her attention to Clarke. "And you are?"

"His wife," she says, smile sweet, and Bellamy doesn't examine the odd mix of emotions churning in his stomach too closely. She's telling the truth, plain and simple. 

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Blake. I didn't realize you were married," she adds, with a sharp look in Bellamy's direction.

He's still trying to recover from _Mrs. Blake_ , but he's always been good at speaking without full assistance from his brain. "I wasn't," he says. "But I am now."

"So you're not worried your sister is going to destroy your romantic prospects."

He rubs his face. "I was never worried about that. Listen, just let me talk to her. Please."

After an agonizing pause, she finally nods. "I'll ask her if she's willing to see you. That's all. I didn't make any promises to you, Bellamy. Just to her."

"Tell her I won't bring her back."

Luna disappears back inside and Bellamy slumps, all the fight going out of him. "She hates me."

"She hates being expected to be a lady. I don't blame her. It's a lot of expectation to get thrown at you."

"What do you think I should have done differently?"

"Nothing. Just because she wasn't happy, it doesn't mean you did anything wrong. Sometimes things are just hard. You're doing your best with all of this."

"Thanks."

"What are wives for?"

Before he can answer, the door flies open, there's Octavia. "You got _married_?" she demands. Her focus shifts. "To _Clarke_?"

"Did you want me to get married to someone else?"

"I didn't think you were allowed to get married to Clarke."

"Is there any way we could talk about this inside?" Clarke asks. "Not on the street?"

"Yeah, you might as well come in."

They take seats in Luna's small drawing room, their hostess nowhere to be seen. Octavia is looking between them, shrewd, trying to find the cracks. It shouldn't be hard; they're nothing but cracks.

"So, Clarke's mom caught you two?"

Clarke inclines her head, considering. "Something like that."

"Congratulations, Bell. I didn't think that was going to happen."

"Yeah, yeah." He sighs. "O, we need to talk about this."

"Yeah, I'm upset you didn't invite me to your wedding too."

"If we hadn't been looking for you, there wouldn't have been a wedding," Clarke says, and O grins.

"So you _really_ owe me."

"You could have just told me how you were feeling," Bellamy says, trying to pull the conversation back from him and Clarke. "You didn't have to run away."

"You weren't listening! Every time I said I didn't want to do this, you said I'd get used to it."

"I thought you would!"

"You never listen to me until I do something like this. You don't take me seriously."

He takes a few breaths, not letting himself snap back. It won't do any good to point out that he thinks she doesn't listen, to rehash the argument they've been having for weeks. He's tired of talking past her.

"I'm sorry," he says instead. "That's how it was for me, so I thought that was how it would be for you. But I get that you--I won't ask you to come back."

Her eyes narrow. "You won't?"

"No. But I need to come up with something you're doing that won't drag Clarke's family through the mud."

"Living with your aunt in the city might be fine," Clarke adds. "The nice thing about being rich is that you can have black sheep in your family and everyone lets it go."

"When you're poor, no one cares either."

"Bellamy was just at the worst level of wealth," she teases, and he smiles back, automatic.

Octavia's frown deepens. "Really, what happened? When did the two of you--"

"Two days ago," says Clarke. "One of my mother's friends saw us going into our inn together, word got back to her--" She shrugs. "No one would have believed we were just traveling together, so--now we're married."

"Just like that?" asks Octavia. Even Bellamy will admit, it doesn't feel real. It certainly hasn't sunk in yet.

"Just like that," says Clarke.

"And you're going to let me do what I want?"

Bellamy leans forward, propping himself up on his knees. "To be honest, I wanted you to get married because I wanted you to be taken care of. I can't believe this is going to last, this good fortune. If you were properly married then no matter what happened to me, you'd be fine."

"I'll be fine, Bell. No matter what."

It's not true, and he knows it. All sorts of things could go wrong in his sister's life, she could end up starving and homeless.

But if he keeps trying to force her into a place she doesn't want to be, it will only be worse if something does go wrong. She'll be too stubborn to come to him and ask for help.

"I know," he says. "So--what do you want to do?"

They spend the rest of the afternoon figuring out Octavia's plan from here. If he was a real noble, her working would be out of the question, but he's a merchant himself, so she has a little more freedom, a little less scrutiny. 

And he is married now. It's not as if he has to worry about her ruining his chances at a good match. And Clarke's family won't let her starve either.

So she elects to stay with Luna and find an occupation, and Bellamy privately arranges to send an allowance and some rent through Luna.

Octavia probably knows he's doing that too, but she doesn't mention it, and she gives him a hug before he leaves.

"Don't be a stranger," he says. "You're welcome any time."

"Where are you even going to live? Does your wife have a nicer place than you do?"

He glances back at Clarke. "Uh, to be determined."

"We'll let you know."

She shakes her head. "Only you, Bell." She hugs Clarke too. "Take care of my brother, okay?"

"He doesn't make it easy."

"Oh, _I_ don't make it easy?" he grumbles, and she grins.

Octavia smiles too, hugs him one more time, and then they're back out on the street, the crisis over.

Well, that crisis. There's still the marriage to deal with.

Clarke must be thinking the same thing, because she gives him a tight smile. "I guess we should talk."

He lets out a breath. "Yeah, I guess so."

*

They go back to their room, the silence more tense than it has been in a long time, between them. Bellamy's always been able to talk to Clarke about almost anything, but marrying her is directly in the middle of things he can't talk about. Being married should have come after he figured out something to say, if it came at all, and having that as the start just makes everything worse.

"So," she says.

"So." He clears his throat. "Can you get out of it?"

Her mouth quirks. "Can I get out of it?"

In retrospect, it might have been the wrong place to start. "Sorry, I guess--do you want to get out of it? I figured you would."

"Do you?"

"It's good for me," he says, the safest answer. "You're the one who's marrying beneath your station."

"Bellamy."

He swallows. "What do you want me to say? I never want to force anyone to--"

"I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't willing to marry you, I knew it was a possibility."

"I know."

"What do you want? From a wife. You never talked about marrying."

"Someone I can talk to," he says. "Someone who knows more about deportment than I do and can help me with--everything. A partner."

"That sounds a lot like me."

"It does." He swallows. "I'd want to be your partner too, though. I don't have a lot to offer. What do you want?"

"Someone I can talk to," she says. "Someone I like spending time with. Someone smart and caring and--" Her laugh comes out as a huff. "You're a great prospect, Bellamy. Anyone would be lucky to marry you."

"You too."

"So--we can be married."

"Yes," he says, and then, right on its heels, "No. Fuck, I can't--"

"You can't?"

"I'm in love with you. You should know that, it's not just--it wouldn't be a convenient match for me, Clarke. That's not why I want to stay married, I--"

Her hands are on his cheeks, pulling his mouth down to hers, their mouths crashing together, the kiss uneven and messy. They did kiss at the church, in the ceremony, one small, quick brush of lips, restrained and perfunctory.

Nothing like this.

Bellamy's arms wrap around her, tugging her close, and Clarke makes a happy noise, her own arms sliding from his cheeks to his shoulders and then around his neck as they trade warm, wet kisses. Bellamy is smiling, grinning, laughing a little, and Clarke is too, until they can't keep up the kisses and she buries her face under his chin.

"I was hoping one of us was going to say it," she says. 

"You could have."

"You asked if I wanted to be married to you!"

"And the answer seems to be yes."

She laughs again, kisses his shoulder. "I do, yes. I was going to bring it up once we'd found your sister."

"You were?"

"I know we couldn't have just--married," she admits. "My mother told me she wouldn't approve. But if you--" She snuggles closer, and Bellamy tugs her back to the bed. It seems likely that they'll consummate the marriage tonight, but that's not even his primary concern right now. He just wants to be close and comfortable. "I thought if you wanted me, we could manufacture a scandal."

"I would have preferred the manufactured one."

"Oh?"

He pulls her back up, kisses her again. She's not the first person he's kissed, and she knows he isn't her first either. In a way, it's nice. They may not have gotten married in the ordinary way, but it's nice to know that they've both had other people, other choices, and they wanted each other.

She wants _him_.

"If we'd talked about it sooner, we could have been doing this sooner," he murmurs, and she grins.

"Well, we are married. We should be able to do it plenty more."

"We should." He slides his hands up her back, tangling in her hair as he pulls her back down. "For the rest of our lives."

"That would be a good start."

*

"So, you two got caught?"

They're back home, at a gathering at Miller's house with most of their friends and acquaintances. No one seems particularly surprised that they eloped, but Raven is the first to say outright that that's what happened, to acknowledge that they didn't _marry_ so much as stumble into a union.

"We weren't even doing anything wrong!" Clarke says, laughing. "I gave my mother every out, she's the one who insisted there was nothing to do but let us marry."

"It was just a matter of time," Raven says, with a fond roll of her eyes. "You two are a walking compromising position."

"We _were_ ," Clarke corrects, smiling up at Bellamy, all warm, fond eyes. "Now we're married, everything is in order."

He smiles back, all helpless affection. "Yeah. Everything's great."


End file.
